


On Avenging Winds

by awildlokiappears



Category: Final Fantasy XII, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, crossover - Fandom
Genre: Clint's a gamerboi, Gen, I probably know waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much about this game., I'm Sorry, KWEH, M/M, Roadtrip, Team Building Exercises, chocobos probably are rank, old fic is old
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 01:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6732823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awildlokiappears/pseuds/awildlokiappears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint's an average guy; sure, he's got a great job as freakin' /Avenger/ and all that, but when it comes down to it, he's not any different than most of the guys his age. He loves his beer, his sandwiches, and his video games...until he woke up in one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's where my ridiculously encyclopedic knowledge of this game starts to come out. I am so sorry, but hey! At least you're getting all the details if you've never played, right?

It was the soft brush of the wind that woke him, and Clint’s eyes opened slowly, painfully; it’d been a rough night last night, what with all the damn HYDRA lackeys…He froze, because the ceiling above him was definitely not the Tower’s ultra-modern brushed steel and his own collage of bows and quivers. It was plaster, painted in soft reds and blues, and curved, just a little, against the aged beams the spanned the whole of the ceiling. He very, very carefully brushed his fingers over the rough linen of the bed he laid on (was that a straw-tick mattress?), and the carved wood of the frame met his fingers. Okay...this was weird. He didn’t feel any wires or anything of the like, so he carefully, carefully sat up…

  
And stared around in wide-eyed shock. The whole inside of the room was softly lit by the sun shining in from flung-open windows, and it definitely looked like something out of a goddamn fantasy book; fantastic creatures filled the walls, done in the same muted hues as the ceiling. His eyes traced every curve and claw, and as they moved down the walls, he realized that he wasn’t alone...that the other five beds in the room were occupied too. He shifted carefully off his bed into a crouch, noting that his tac suit was gone, and while the linen shirt and leather breeches were comfortable, they didn’t have much in the way of defensive capability...and then a familiar form groaned wearily and sat up, his black hair all curled and messy, brown eyes all but glued shut.

  
“Tony?”

  
“The hell, birdbrain, whacha doin’ in my room?” The engineer ground out, rubbing his eyes open and glaring balefully at Clint. The archer stood up slowly, and gestured around the room; Tony’s eyes narrowed as his head turned, then widened. “....This is weird. This is very, very weird. And what am I wearing?” He held the gray linen with red trim out from his body, pinched in two fingers, and glared at it like it’d insulted his mother.

  
“The same shit I’m wearing, and everyone else is too. Hey, guys? Ya’ll better wake up.” More groans filled the room, as Bruce and Steve both rolled to their feet, dressed in much the same manner as himself and Tony, though in blue and black leather, and Bruce, dressed in dark green and gray. The next form to stir was the one he was worried the most about; he approached Natasha’s bed carefully, making sure his footfalls were clear.

  
“Tasha?” A long, pale arm snapped out, and clawed fingers wrapped around his wrist...as waves of long red hair, angry green eyes...and the cutest pair of long red-gray bunny ears emerged from under the blankets. His eyes went even wider now, and Clint gulped. “Oh shit. I know where we are.”

  
“Do you, Barton? Because if so, it better goddamn well explain why I’m a fuckin’ Playboy bunny.” Tasha growled, her beautiful face twisted with rage... _and oh god, don’t smile at the way her little tail is twitching, she’ll murder me and no one will dare defy her_. And it was so goddamn cute, too. He took a deep breath to compose himself...and that’s when Thor woke up, yawning widely and stretching his long, scaly arms... _Oh goddammit_. He was definitely a big giant reptile. Everyone stared for a long moment at the transformed god, who blinked sleepily in return, before Clint spoke.

  
“I do. We’re...We’re in Ivalice.” There were uncomprehending stares all around, and finally, Bruce scratched his curly head.

  
“...we’re talking the same Ivalice that’s in Final Fantasy, right? With the moogles and such?”

  
“Same one.”

  
“Clint, I know you’re one for pulling our legs, but…”

  
“Bruce, look at Tasha! Look around us! Tell me this doesn’t look like Balfonheim to you! We’re in the sky-pirate harbor, we’ve gotta be. Tasha’s a viera, Thor’s a bangaa, and the rest of us are weaponless and definitely dressed for the climate here. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s boots in our sizes waiting just outside the door, and…”

  
“Friend Clint, what is this ‘bangaa’ you speak of?” Thor’s form was the same golden color as his hair, and he shook his head, nonplussed when his long ears flapped, the heavy rings making a faint chiming sound. “...What has happened to me?! Is this some mischief?!”

  
“...Honestly, Sparky, probably. But what matters at the moment is that we’re all healthy and okay, right?” Natasha’s eyes darkened and he offered her a wincing smile. She glared a little longer, then sighed, swinging her long legs out of the bed. She had, thankfully, been dressed in something that wasn’t the skimpy fashions the viera in the games always dressed in; long swathes of deep gray silk covered her from neck to knee, only her tail popping out of the back, and her long calves and forearms were encased in black leather. She stood...and she was immediately taller than all five of them, a fact that she clearly smirked over.

  
“...I take this back, I kinda like this body.”

  
“Do you feel okay?” That was Steve, of course, his eyes immediately concerned as she tiptoed around, checking her paces, and hers softened a little. They all had a soft spot for Steve’s mother henning, even if sometimes it sorta drove them nuts. But given no one else had ever cared enough...well. Steve gave them purpose.

  
“Yes, Cap, I feel fine. But I think Clint’s actually right; we’re somehow in the game universe, or a facsimile of it. The only real way to know is to explore our limits. And I’ve seen him play this one enough times that there’s a hell of a limit to explore here.”

  
“And see if we get shot stepping out of this inn.” Bruce’s voice was quiet, and he looked up at all of them now. “I...can’t feel the other guy, so we don’t have that worry, but if we’re all weaponless…”

  
“Hardly, my good fellows and lady viera; you’ve just not left your rooms yet!” The newcomer made them all start, especially Natasha, and the easy grin on the man’s face made Clint bristle a little. He was tallish, about Clint’s height, with brushed back auburn-brown hair and a cocky smile; the vest he wore was gorgeously embroidered, and it was clear he was prosperous enough, because all of his gear screamed competent and professional. And he was leaning against the open door of their room as though he belonged here. If he weren’t smirking, Clint might like the guy.

“My partner and I have your weapons and other clothing just out here; relax, none have stolen anything, and after your worrisome retreat last night, we feared the worst...but come. We have much to explain, and I’m sure you’ll have questions, each of you.” He turned and they heard him walk back down the hall...and after a long shared glance, Steve sighed.

  
“Well, he’s right. And I want my shield.”

  
“Bastard better have my fuckin’ bow…”

  
“And Mjolnjr.” Thor’s eyes were dark and angry, and they all filed out, Steve taking point, with Tony, Clint, Tasha, then Bruce and Thor. Sure enough, their weaponry was laid out neatly, obviously newly cleaned, and their other gear...but it was all altered. Mjolnjr was longer in handle and much larger, Clint’s bow was a wicked curve and all black stained wood, with silvery filigree around the handle...Natasha’s guns were dangerous looking little pistols, and she made an equally dangerous amount of knives disappear into the folds of her bodysuit. Steve’s shield came with a sturdy looking sword; he gave it a raised eyebrow, but sheathed it on his belt anyway.

  
Of all of them, Bruce and Tony were the ones looking the most askance at their weapons; rather than Tony’s repulsors, and of course, Bruce’s strength as the Hulk, they each had a staff. Bruce’s was a clear crystal set in a graceful, golden wood, and Tony’s was a gorgeous sapphire trapped in a deep ebony bough. They looked at one another.

  
“...Please don’t tell me we’re mages.”

  
“But of course you are; a healer and a black mage, every party needs a pair.” Tony looked like he wanted to brain the man who was checking his own rifle, and Clint’s hands itched to shoot him. Natasha, however, shot him a dangerous look, and he bowed, eyes apologetic. “I’m Balthier, sky-pirate and pilot of the Strahl...And this is my partner and co-pilot, Fran.” The tall, silver-haired viera that walked in from the common room flickered golden eyes over the six of them, and Clint felt his jaw drop. He hadn’t really been interested in Balthier as a character, which was why he hadn’t recognized him, but Fran...well. He kept his eyes strictly on her face; he didn’t feel like digging daggers out of his gut for letting them wander. Tony must have been in the same mind, because he was keeping his eyes down when she looked past him, and busied himself with figuring out his crap.

  
“...Balthier, they must be hungry.” She murmured, and he looked contrite for once. Clint felt his regard in the man rise a little as he nodded, deferring immediately to the viera.

  
“Ah, my dear lady, you’re surely right. Please, join us on the balcony when you’re ready, our party awaits as well. We shall ensure that breakfast is filling, but do not tarry, that young Vaan will eat his fill and everyone else’s.” They both vanished back into the sunlit part of the building, and the Avengers all and one shared a long glance. Steve broke the silence with a sigh, hefting his shield back up onto his back.

  
“Well, I don’t see a better course of action.” Tony nodded, staff resting in the crook of his arm.

  
“I don’t either. They’ll know better than us, and maybe we can figure out where we are in the game script?”

  
“If we’re even in it at all.” That was Bruce, and the man’s eyes were dark, his lips thinned as he thought. “We may be npc’s, we may not even be following the game script. We may have total freedom, and we may be limited to just this port. We’ll need to be very careful about what we say to this man, and his party. Because we may only be in a false world, and he may be just waiting for us to turn our backs.” Rather than raising hell, they all nodded; it’d happened before, on their home turf, and there was no reason to not believe it might not happen again. Clint shouldered his quivers, feeling comfortable as he adjusted the leather and scale armor that protected his chest. He didn’t have long sleeves like Steve and Tony, and he preferred the tunic underneath anyway...and before he knew it, they were moving into the enormously busy bar room; Tony’s gesture pointed them to the balcony above it all, and they made their way to the staircase. It wasn’t easy; there were a few shoves and loud patrons harassing Natasha until she hissed and flashed her long claws at them.

  
Finally, though, they broke through the mass of drunks and made their way upstairs, taking the other half of the massive table, and Clint found himself staring into six faces he’d spent countless hours battling with. Ashelia B’nargin Dalmasca, Vaan, Penelo, Basch Von Ronsenburg, Balthier, Fran...It was Ashe who crossed her arms as they sat down, and Steve met her look for look. Clint in turn met Vaan with a raised eyebrow, while Natasha and Fran eyed one another, Thor dipped his snout to Basch, and Tony and Bruce gave Balthier and Penelo both little waves.

  
“...You are not of these lands.”

  
“No, we’re not. And we’d like to find our way home.” She turned a little to Balthier, and the sky-pirate sighed.

  
“...To make a very long, complicated story short, you came through a portal torn open by a certain kind of creature. It took all of our power and yours combined to transport ourselves out of the ancient city of Giruvegan. And before you ask, the creature in question was an esper…”

  
“And you captured her.” That was Clint, and he groaned a little. Ashe’s brow furrowed, and the archer flapped a hand at her. “Look, is there anyone you could suggest us to ask for advice? Because my guess is that to get back into the City is nigh impossible.” Ashe sighed a little, and nodded.

  
“The trek is long, and you cannot enter without a member of one of the ruling families...and there are precious few of those left. Perhaps asking quiet questions will help you, but I sense not. You would be wise to find a place to settle down, perhaps, you and your friends.” Clint raised an eyebrow at that; he knew full well she was one of those ruling members, but then again...in the game play, her identity was a dangerous secret, and he couldn’t blame her for not admitting such to random strangers. Steve’s jaw set, his eyes darkening, and Tony’s flashed, but he gave the engineer a stern look.

  
“We’ll see. Thank you, for the food and the advice; can you tell us what happened last night? Something seems to be affecting our memory…” Her face cleared, and Basch chuckled gently, breaking the tension. Clint shifted back, sharing a glance with Natasha; she didn’t like this anymore than he did, and that was comforting, because as much as he loved the games...well. He wanted to go home.

  
“That, friends, is a spell; it should not have much longer before it wears off, and gladly so. You came out in the middle of a very dangerous battle, and while we nearly lost, your bravery aided us in ways we could not have imagined, and we were victorious. Then you were all struck, perhaps by a trap spell from one of the beasts, and we aided you back to Balfonheim from our airship.” Thor looked impressed, and they all lapsed into silence as they ate; the food was strange, and salted from the sea, of course, but good and filling, and their hosts didn’t seem to mind their pensiveness. It was Balthier who broke it, naturally, and Clint found himself rather interested in what the man had to say.

  
“I’ll be honest with you all, we were...rather at a loss at first when you all collapsed; but you fought well together, fought better than even ourselves as a team. We could no more leave you there...and I want to make it clear, we don’t desire any sort of recompense. But we could use some help.” Steve raised an eyebrow, and folded his arms on the table, matching the other man’s gaze.

  
“Oh? What sort of help?”

  
“In truth, we need to get to a special sort of place. Unfortunately, my ship doesn’t have the capability to get there...just yet.”  
“And you want us to what, work on it?”

  
“Hardly, my good swordsman, I’ve a worthy mechanic as it is. No, my query is this: would you aid us in recovering the magicite required to allow us to flight to the Pharos.” Clint forced himself not to react, not at all, _act natural, act natural._..because he knew where they were in the game now, and he knew what to do. He gave Steve the faintest of nods; the soldier studied him for a long moment, then slowly nodded as well.

  
“...Tell us what we need to do.”


	2. Chapter 2

Drawing certainly wasn't Clint's specialty; he had nothing on Steve, after all. But he was pretty passable at drawing maps, and thankfully, his memory served him correctly as he sketched out a rough map of the Pharos Lighthouse. Balthier and friends had gone on to Archadia, taking the trip through the Sochen Cave Palace to go after the artificial nethicite, while the rest of the Avengers pored over the enormous map of Ivalice. The goal was to get their start a few days after the other group, because according to Balthier, the superheroes were already being watched. Well, technically, so was his party, but they'd slipped off in twos on foot, while Clint and the others would be more obvious on chocobos.

  
He had to grin, just a little bit, at the idea of all of his fellow heroes riding the enormous yellow chickens; Tony was groaning and gagging a little (chocobos were rank), and everyone else didn't know how to react. But they'd gotten their birds rented from Gurdy the Moogle, so there wasn't a whole lot they could do, and even if they did smell, at least they were fast. And here in the small warehouse they'd been left in, each was taking some time to focus on their weaponry and fighting techniques, because what had been theirs before was something so very different now.

  
Only Clint hadn't; his bow crossed his body, the string loosened hours ago, while he put his mind to the drawings on the table before him. But then, he was an archer before hand, and his performance hadn't changed a bit since getting dropped through a portal. Hell, he'd even cut his teeth on wooden arrow shafts, so this was just Throwback Thursday for him. Natasha came over, just as graceful as ever, and leaned over the table across from him, carefully picking up one of the finished dungeon drawings so that she didn't punch a hole through it. She’d had long nails before on a job, but claws were a whole new ballgame; he could tell she liked them, though.

  
"You really do know this game well."

  
"I probably shouldn't, because let's be honest here, I'm sure I could have spent my free time far more productively."

  
"Well, no knowledge is bad knowledge, Clint. And this is going to keep us all safe, which matters a great deal more to me than anything Sitwell and Hill could force you to learn."

  
"Aw, you don't think they would've made good choices?" She chuckled at that, and he flashed her a grin, finishing up the last drawing and straightening back up with a groan. He did _not_ miss the short tables from his early days at SHIELD...no, he missed the black marble bar-height ones in Tony‘s kitchen. "Let's be real, they probably would've made me learn history or some shit."

  
"Which is all fine and good, but you wouldn't have retained a damn thing because you were pissed you had to take a class on it."

  
"...Touché. So, do we have a game plan beyond 'ride giant-ass bird into caves?' Because A. the chocobos won't go in there, and B. there's a very good likelihood that we'll have some serious monsters to take down on our way to the Archadian slums."

  
"...That, I'm not sure. Steve's...not really in his element here."

  
"Ain't that the truth..."

  
"That's why I'm deferring the leadership to you, Clint." Steve's voice was a hair too calm; a sure sign that he was overwhelmed, and the pinched look between his eyebrows made Clint feel rather sympathetic to the man. He was constantly running his fingers over the curved edge of the shield on his back, taking what comfort he could in the familiar song of the vibranium.

  
"Because I know the lay of the land?"

  
"And the opposition. You know what we're likely to face." Steve's eyes warmed and he settled back in his chair, rolling his neck to try and pop out some of the tension. "Besides, between your smart mouth and your aim, all we have to do is take out the heavy hitters. Any game bosses will be solely going after you." Clint snorted at the soldier's easy grin, and rolled his eyes. But the trust that Steve had in him, in all of them, it was enough to settle his doubts; Steve had worked hard to get to know all of his team, especially after the incident a few years ago...Tony came over, staff over his shoulders, and his arms over that, waving a little and grinning. He was streaked pretty liberally in black ash from all the spellcasting, while Bruce was using Thor as a guinea pig for the various support spells.

  
"Funny, Rogers, ha ha...Tony, how’s the magecraft coming?”

  
“Pretty damn awesome, I gotta say. Just...do me a favor, and get the hell out of the way when I start casting. I’m honestly surprised at how easy the spells are coming to me...”

  
“It’s because when mages learn their craft in this world, the spells become a part of them. You won’t forget them, though that magick can be twisted and deformed, if you’re not careful.” All of them turned to face the man now leaning in their doorway; mostly bald, tanned heavily from sun and surf, with a faint quirk of his lips. He was every inch the pirate, and an old one at that; he looked almost sixty, but still just as strong as any man half his age. Clint offered him an ironic pirate’s salute, and the man chuckled.

  
“And you’d be our kind benefactor, Reddas.”

  
“That I am; Balthier came to me when you all came out of Giruvegan, and I was more than happy to give such able and strong fighters a chance to recuperate. So...two days you’ve all been here, and I allow three days’ grace in my port...” Clint smiled and bowed a little at the waist.

  
“Don’t worry, we’re leaving at first light. We only stayed today and tonight to give Balthier and the rest a chance to get ahead of our mutual watchers.” Reddas’ face darkened at that, and he nodded, just a little, coming from the door to peer at both sets of maps, Clint’s drawings catching his eye.

  
“...You know the Lighthouse.”

  
“It’s...a very long story. Long enough that I really, really don’t think it’d do us any good to go into. But if you’ll hold onto these drawings for us, that’d be much appreciated. I don’t trust that carrying them on our persons would keep them safe at this point.” Everyone looked at him now, and the archer only raised an eyebrow. “You all trusted me to take over the leadership this time around; this is my play.” At their reluctant nods, he rolled up each drawing and tucked it in a message tube, sealing with some of the purple wax from one of the many candles lying about. “If we don’t come back in five days...”

  
“I will burn them. I do not seek to die upon the rocks of that unholy place, searching for a treasure that might not even exist...but neither will I allow anyone else other than Balthier to guide anyone there.”

  
“Give them to him, even if we don’t make it.”

  
“Of course. Now, I’d best be leaving. Sleep well, and do not linger here when you leave; shadows linger long after they should be gone these days, and I do not like it.” Clint saluted him again, this time with more respect, and the pirate chuckled, then vanished into the warm night. Steve shut and barred the door, and as was all their habits now in a rough place, each of them took an area and secured it. Thor took the lower levels, Mjolnjr on his shoulder, while Clint went high. Natasha took the west, Tony the east, Bruce the south, and Steve finished securing the northern wall. All of them came back to the center, and rolled out their pallets, settling down for the night in their own quiet ways.

  
Natasha slid off her armor and most of the body suit, leaving just the soft undergarments and cleaned her knives; no one’s eyes lingered on her, in part because she was no object to be admired...And because she was their friend, their comrade. Not to mention the fact that six people living in the same space, even if said space had plenty of room, always ended up learning about the gross parts of each other. There was no shame anymore.

  
Steve shucked off everything but the leather pants and flopped down, working out each joint and cracking as he went, while Tony cleaned himself up and made a bit of a performance about fluffing up his small pillow and setting the blankets just right...Not that that mattered, because he always ended up tangled in a mess, half on the floor. Bruce just left his shirt on, and the drawers, and meditated, eyes half-closed as his voice deepened into soft chanting.

  
Thor took a little longer to get comfortable, and none of them could blame him; it had to be a real bitch to deal with a snout as long as Clint’s forearm, a tail, and legs that didn’t bend like a normal human’s (or Asgardian’s). Finally, though, he was draped over a table (no one judged, it looked like it was the only comfortable position for his reptilian body), snoring softly...and Clint laid himself down next to Tasha, removing only his upper body armor and shirt, and watched the stars flicker high above through the clear, magicite windows.

  
 _Tomorrow, the journey starts, and we see just how far we can go._ He honestly had no idea if they’d even be able to leave Balfonheim; none of them had wanted to take the chance. _We don’t have a choice, though; we have to try, if for no other reason than to get home. I didn’t get to quiz Balthier on the Espers they’ve captured, but that’s got to be the way. They’re the only creatures with that kind of power in Ivalice, and there’s thirteen...so far, I know they have Ultima, Mateus, Shemhazai, and Belias, otherwise they wouldn't have gotten through Giruvegan. That leaves Adrammelech in the caverns, Cuchulainn in the waterway, Chaos in the Necrohol, Zalera, Zeromus, Hashmal, Exodus, Zodiark....Famfrit, we’ll get at the top of the Pharos. We have nine more chances to get the hell out of here...if we time it right._

  
He sighed softly to himself, and dredged up more information; he knew roughly where all the espers were, but it was no easy task to get to them. There was a reason they were the toughest bosses in the game next to the hunts; Zodiark was probably the worse he’d fought, next to Ultima. Hopefully, with the other team’s help, they’d be able to defeat the espers and get the hell out of the game world...hopefully, they’d get home. Clint sighed again as the candles slowly guttered out, wondering if the others at the Tower were worried...if they even knew the main Avengers were gone. Pietro and Wanda had been out and about with Xavier’s school, both of them getting a chance to be kids...Rhodey and Pepper were probably still in Italy, at least...Vision would be with Wanda...

  
T’Challa and Carol and the rest were probably relaxing, honestly, and rightfully; they’d pulled plenty of double duty over the last year while the main team had gotten their shit together, and Clint couldn’t help the smile that touched his lips. Here he was, worrying about the state of the world outside them, even though there wasn’t jackshit he could do about it...Maybe that’s how Steve felt all the time. In any case, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let go of the worry for a little while.

  
Black Panther, Captain Marvel, the Fantastic Four, the Defenders, the X-Men...the world had plenty of white knights to protect it right now. They, on the other hand, had plenty more to worry about, and Clint finally allowed himself to drop into a light sleep, keeping an eye cracked and an ear ready, his bow just within reach. As everyone’s breathing evened out around him, he smiled, just a little. Steve had wanted some real world bonding exercises to help all of them put the past behind them...what better way than to go on a road trip?


	3. Chapter 3

"Well, at least they're moving fast enough I can't smell them." Clint hid a smile; Tasha had deservedly taken point, the fresh air easing her sensitive nose from the rank stench of the chocobos, and he was just a few feet behind. Further back were Steve and Bruce, both of them taking in the expanse of the lower Cerobi Steppe. Clint hadn't been exaggerating about how vast the world really was; it was one of the largest of its time in the video game world to be fully mapped out, and rendered beautifully...but here, this was no computer. The winds billowed softly around the North Liavell Hills, teasing at their clothing and their mounts' feathers, then whipping out over the gullies and faraway mesas.

He was taking the slightly less dangerous route now, following the faint markings of the Old Elanise Road to the Tchita Uplands through to the lone rest point on the Steppe. The other reason he didn't take the northern path was this; Feddick River opened out to two of the larger, more dangerous Clan Marks, and he had no interest in fighting either of them...especially not with the team so new to their powers and skills. No, the handful of enemies they'd fight when they got to Sochen would be more than enough to get them ready for Draklor Laboratories....if they made it alive. Which, honestly, he had faith that they would, if for no other reason than they were all too damn stubborn to die.

"Hey, Birdbrain, when are we stopping?"

"In about three miles; we just got to the Terraced Bank."

"....do you seriously have the whole map memorized?" Clint shrugged fluidly, only raising an eyebrow at the inquiry. Sometimes, he forgot that Tony didn't quite _know_ what his teammates actually did for a living; Clint had the entirety of more buildings, enemy bases and even cave systems in his head, forever locked in memory. A video game was _easy_.

"Yes, actually, I do. From here, we've got a stopping point at an oasis called Journey's rest, then we'll hit the Crossfield, avoiding Feddick River and the Northsward, going up the remainder of the Old Elanise Road into the Uplands. From there, we rest again, and we'll have to turn the chocobos loose to return to Balfonheim; they're liable to get lost if we do it later. We've got a day's trek to Sochen from there; we cross the uppermost Uazcuff Hills, then through the ruins of Sundered Earth, tiptoe through the tiny junction path that cuts through the Highlands, skirt the path through the Fields of Eternity, and we're at the cave entrance. We'll camp for the night just inside, then head through to Archadia."

"...something tells me it's not going to be that simple."

"You would be right; from there, we've got an ancient palace full of monsters and traps to clear, then get to the upper echelon of Archadia itself. Thankfully, Balthier has a friend who will help us out." Tony mulled this over for a little while, even through their rest, long enough that they were nearly to the Uplands by the time Clint heard him clear his throat again. He'd spent the last hour locking the open skies into his memory; he didn't like the Cave Palace in the damn game, let alone to be traveling in it in person. That, and he'd have to take some time and explain in just a hair more detail about some of the monsters, especially the damn imps, the zombies, and the Wendigos and dullahan.

They had fought some monsters in his time, but these...these were a special level of creepy, and Clint hated them with a passion. It was things like that that kept him from ever playing Resident Evil again; he desperately hated anything undead, and he was just grateful that all he'd ever had to do was deal with gods and serum fed monsters. Of course, they might not be as bad as he feared...

Or they could be so much worse.

\---

Sending away the chocobos wasn't the easiest thing, but Clint wouldn't see the poor things slaughtered by predators when they'd been worn out running. Besides the small spring that fed the resting point refreshed them all enough to make up a camp, setting up watches and indulging in the last of the Balfonheim sandwiches the barkeep had made up for them for the first leg of the journey. Bruce carried the other perishables in a very special pack; it was shielded, heavily so, with one of Tony's blizzards keeping the meat and cheeses deliciously cold. Ordinarily, they wouldn't have wasted the power, but as Tony had ruefully admitted, most of them weren't used to the sort of trail food he and Tasha could live on.

And frankly, Clint didn't mind; he never had a good time with the trail mixes anyway, and jerky just upset his stomach now. Food going bad was something they could ill afford, and if the price was a little bit of magick, well...it wasn't so bad. Besides, Bruce enjoyed the chill at his back; the sun the next morning was pressingly hot, and there wasn't much of a breeze coming down from the mountains today. Still, they'd walked through worse, and after refilling their water skins and packing the tent up for Thor to carry, they all set out at a good clip.

The beaten dirt path they followed now was still a road, but one rarely used; it was obvious from the distant roar of the airships above that road travel was purely for the hunters, the adventurous, and the fools these days...and the first evidence of that came when they passed a pack of coeurls circling a body...a body left in pieces by one of the earth-shaking dragons they could hear, far off down the hills. He managed to dispatch one of the beasts that roamed too close to their group, and the rest scattered, leaving the poor fool to the vultures that were even now consuming him.

"Unlucky bastard." Natasha was solemn, and Tony blasted at the vultures, scaring them off, then cast a cleansing spell of fire. Steve raised his sword in respect, Bruce his hand in salute, and Thor bowed, offering a deep-voiced prayer to the valkyrja. Clint retrieved his arrow, and made quick work of skinning the beast, then laid the rough fur over the ashes. Not a lasting memorial, but anyone passing by would understand, with luck, and a little cairn might be built. But for now, they had no time to spare, and kept going.

From the Hills, they made their way up through the ruins, pausing to rest at midday on the junction path, thankfully out of range of the monsters that roamed the area below. He did consider taking a few more pelts; his pack was the lightest in the group, and he didn’t mind carrying a little more just to ensure that they had the money they might need, but one look at Steve’s pensive face and he dropped it. He might be taking to this like a duck to water, but that didn’t mean the rest were.

“How much further, Clint?” Speaking of which, Steve’s tired voice came from the side of the cliff where they were all resting, all of them sweating, even in the thin shade.

“About another two hours, Steve; if we avoid the monsters, it’ll take that long, but fighting will take longer.”

“I’d rather avoid fighting if we can. Save our strength for the palace.”

“I thought so; I’ve been wracking my brain to make sure I remember where the monsters roam into, but if you want, I’d be happy to scout ahead.”

“You are our long-range guy, though...”

“Oh, let him go, Steve. Clint knows what we’re up against, knows what’s up there. He’ll signal if he gets into trouble, and we’ll be on our way anyway.” He sighed as Tony pointed all that out, and finally nodded.

“Just...be careful.”

“Will do, Cap.” He pushed off from the rock he was sitting on, drew his bow and an arrow, and set out, keeping to the cliffs on his right until he could dart over to the rock wall of the smaller outcropping to his left. There were three more coeurls ranging around at the entrance of the Fields, and though he tried to skirt past them, it was no dice. With a sigh, he drew back on the bowstring, and an arrow flashed into the farmost one’s throat, swiftly followed by two more. One punctured through the eye to the brain, another in the throat again, and retrieving and cleaning his arrows, he dragged the carcasses out of the road.

He wasn’t one for senseless killing, and he felt a little guilty for dispatching of the animals that were simply looking for a meal, but at the same time...well, they needed to live too. He ended up doing the same thing four more times, one to a basilisk, then three more coeurls, before he reached the cave entrance. There, he stood guard as his team finally crested the hill and came down into the tiny valley, all of them looking grimmer than they had before.

“...Were the animals pretty bad, Clint?” Bruce looked a little worried, but hardly green; as pacifist as he was, he was also pragmatic, and rarely looked askance on any of them. Granted, he and Tasha were the ones with the most blood in the ledger, so Clint suspected that it was partly self-preservation, because even the Hulk didn’t like fighting his team.

“Not really, I just didn’t want to end up making things worse by leaving them to roam. They‘re just hungry enough that we‘d make a damn nice meal.”  
“Fair enough...are we camping at the mouth of the cave, or just inside?”

“Just inside; there’s an alcove that’s easy to protect that’s juuuust big enough for all of us and the packs. There’s no room for the tent, but we should be able to start a fire.”

“...Is that wise?” That was Thor, his golden scales gleaming in the sunlight, blue eyes narrowed against the glare, and he crossed his scaly arms over his chest, the leather of his vest creaking. Mjolnjr swung at his hip, as it always had, and while his clawed feet were bare to the earth, the transformed god was a lot more comfortable now in his new body. The only thing that seemed to bother him was the long, blunted snout, and that was mostly because of the blindspot it left him. At least he wasn’t a frog this time...

“Yeah, most of the ghoulies in this place don’t care for fire at all. Which does not mean you can just roast them, Tony.” He glared at the mage, who was even now warming up a Fira spell in his palms. Tony sighed and let the flames go out, pouting a little, and Natasha gave him a light slap upside the head.  
“Enough, boys. We’re all tired; let’s get inside and get settled. Who’s taking the first watch?”

“I will.” Steve immediately volunteered, and Clint raised an eyebrow, but didn’t protest; he was tired, moreso than he’d been in a while, and he really did just want to lay down and sleep for a few hours. He helped Bruce set up the bedrolls from Steve’s pack while the rest picked out their watches, and he breathed a sigh of relief that his would be the very last one, close to morning. He’d relieve Tasha, and they went Steve, Thor, Bruce, Tony for the others. Definitely a relief, because the heat, combined with the long day’s journey, the ache in his legs from riding the chocobo, and his preventative attacks, had him sacked out cold just minutes after he’d finished his supper. He had enough in him to mutter a raspy thank you as Tasha laid his blanket over him, and he was out cold at last.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! To everyone who's read so far, thank you! Please, don't hesitate to comment! Comments and critique make me happy. This fic is a labor of love, for both the Avengers and Final Fantasy, and to see it finally posted after five years of sitting on my Google Drive, and growing? That's just icing on the cake. I'm working on the next chapter now, and I hope you'll all like where I'm going with it!

“I hate caves. I mean, I really, really, really hate caves...”

  
“We know, Tony.” Bruce sounded tired; he hadn’t slept well through the night, but then, none of them but Clint had, and even then, he still felt sapped. Thankfully, though, the cave had a clear stream running down one side of it, and was probably about thirty degrees cooler than outside, so at least they all felt better. Well, everyone except Tony; he was anxiously playing with a minor fire spell, pacing back and forth by the entrance. None of them could blame him, but...well, they didn’t have a choice. They had to go in. Clint pulled his pack up on his shoulders and made sure his quiver was hooked to his hip just so, and reluctantly, everyone else followed suit, grouping up. Tasha had her pistols out, and Bruce cast several protective spells, glaring down Steve when the captain tried to stop him, and finally, Tony calmed down a little, studying the glowing nimbus around him. They were also floating now, a good foot above the ground; Bruce had been surprised by the spell, but Clint was inwardly ecstatic. Now, they didn’t have to worry about the traps...they just had to worry about monsters.

  
He set off at a jog, and as they rounded the first corner into the large cavern, he spied three of the undead horrors, dropping maggots and what remained of their muscle tissue, animated solely by a malignant magick. Three shots later, he was retrieving the arrows as they ran past, and with a wicked grin, he nocked all three on the strong, between his fingers, and let loose when the three imps came into view around the third corner. He gathered those same three arrows again, this time from the little bastards’ eye sockets, and they all skidded to a stop before the enormous iron door.

  
Tasha took point now; she knelt, peering into the locking mechanism, and with her set of slender picks, turned the catch and managed to pull it open a tiny bit...but it was just too heavy for her to get on her own. In fact, it took Clint, Steve, and Thor to haul it open, and they all paused for a breather in the doorway, unnerved by the way the hall beyond was lit. It looked like a phosphorescent glow, and knowing how rich the lands hereabouts were with waste magicite, Clint suspected that was the cause. Either way, it was spooky as hell; Tony looked like he was about to bolt, and Clint’s eyes widened as Bruce murmured...something, and laid his thumb on Tony’s forehead, dead center. It seemed like the air between them all stilled...and then Tony was relaxed again, looking a little sleepy, and much less anxious. Bruce sighed.

  
“Better to have him a little out of it than jumping at every shadow. Keep him in the middle; I’ll renew our shielding if someone will guard the rear.”

  
“I will, gladly.” Thor’s grin looked almost eldritch in the low light, but he cradled the hammer in the crook of his arm, ready to swing as needed. With that taken care of, and Tony gently pulled to the middle by Steve, they reformed, and Clint took point again with Natasha, the two of them taking down their few threats fairly quickly as they carefully made their circuitous way through the abandoned palace.

  
Opening the door to the first huge room on his mental map, Clint blinked at the small pile of mutated vegetables. Evidently Balthier and company had already fought off the six-piece boss that provided Sochen’s only real unavoidable challenge, and he breathed a sigh of relief at that.

  
“...what are those?”

  
“It’s a very long story, Steve, but they’re basically magical, vicious veggies.”

  
“...Okay then. Moving on.” Clint hid his grin, and led them through the enormous northern door; it led now to the unfinished part of the caves, where water and time had sculpted the tunnels, not the hand of man. Here, the monsters were finally more numerous, and everyone tensed, even Tony...and it was Clint who fired off a rapid series of arrows, crouching low and eyes intent. He took out the first wave, and Natasha leapt in the fray as he ran out of arrows and switched to his knife and newly unstrung bow, gathering up his ammo as he helped her cut through the second wave.

  
It was Steve who took out the third, and they both dropped to the ground as his shield sang through the air, bouncing off of monsters and walls alike before coming back, and the last, ragged remnants went up in smoke, literally; Tony, coaxed by Bruce, turned every single corpse to ash, then cast Aero to blow away the stinking, stinging smoke. A few moments of coughing, and they were free to continue on.

  
“Good job, team.” Steve looked pleased, setting his shield in its hook on his back, and Bruce’s healing spell eased the cuts and burns they’d gotten in the thick of it. Clint finished retrieving his arrows, Natasha reloaded her guns, and they set out again. The tunnels eased as they passed through the next chamber, taking out the two dullahan and marveling at how the waterfalls still flowed, and Clint was glad to see the large door that led to the rest of the palace. From there, the fighting was tedious, but intense; every door they opened led to two or more monsters, all of them the huge, headless dullahan or the ice-shrouded, hulking wendigo.

  
And they weren’t light hitters; by the time they made it through to the old sanctuary, Clint had two black eyes and several burns and cuts, Natasha was nursing a limp and two broken, hastily splinted fingers, as well as several frost-burns, Bruce was drained and exhausted, and Tony wasn’t much better. Thor and Steve were taking on the heavy hitters now, while the rest brought up the rear, and Clint took a moment to breathe, leaning against one of the enormous pillars as both god and soldier laid out the monsters. Tony, now mostly out of the spell that Bruce had cast on him, came over and joined him, watching out as Natasha rested on a fallen pedestal with Bruce, both of them eating quietly to regain some of their strength.

  
“So, how much longer?” Natasha nibbled at her cheese, obviously too tired to make more of an effort.

  
“Not too far. We’ve got one more tunnel to traverse, then it’s on to the old magicite elevator, then we’re home free.”

  
“Thank god...I’m so tired.” He gave her a soft pat on her good knee, meeting her tired smile with his own.

  
“Me too, Nat, me too. Balthier’s pal is supposed to meet us at the entrance to the slums, so we should at least be able to crash for the night and recover in safety.”

  
“...You sure you trust this guy? I mean, I know he’s a video game character, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t also trying to rip us off.” Tony still sounded sleepy, but there was a glint in his eye that they all knew too well, and he held his stave in the crook of his arm like the versatile professional he was.  
“I know. And yeah, I do. For one, he wasn’t lying about needing the nethicite; without that, they can’t land at the Pharos, nor at several of the other major areas around Ivalice. And without all of them, we can’t get into the esper battles.”

  
“We can’t?”

  
“Nope. Look, you’ve played a little, right?”

  
“Yeah...” Now Clint had his attention, and he launched right into his reasoning.

  
“Did you ever get to the part where Ashe gets the first esper?” Tony thought about that for a long moment, and slowly nodded. “Okay, so Belias is the esper that was controlled by King Raithwall, right?”

  
“Right.”

  
“I have a theory that without Ashe, we cannot get into the esper battles. If you think about it, every major esper in the game can only be accessed by the team, right?”

  
“...I think I see where you’re going with this. Because of her royal bloodline, she’s able to reach each of the espers when most regular hunters can’t.”  
“Exactly.”

  
“...what about Famfrit? Didn’t Cid control him?”

  
“He did, but it makes me wonder if Cid himself wasn’t part of the royal family; Balthier’s got that look about him, and he is Cid’s son. Of course, there's always Venat; that would make sense too, why Cid could control him.”

  
“...Alright, I can see that too. So, help them, we help ourselves get home. And Venat's that Oculus thingie that went rogue, right?”

  
“Occuria. It’s the only theory I’ve got that’s even remotely plausible. And frankly, it’s the only theory I’ve got that doesn’t rely on just us; a team of twelve is a whole lot more powerful than a team of six, even if we are the Avengers.”

  
“Amen to that...oh look, we’re finally free to move on.” Clint chuckled at that, still a bit raspy from all the smoke earlier, and offered his hand to Tasha to help her up, while Tony did the same for Bruce. She took his arm gratefully, and he offered his shoulder to lean on, setting a gentle hand around her waist. She took that aid with a tired sigh.

  
“Thanks, hotshot...”

  
“Anytime, gorgeous, anytime. How’s the leg?”

  
“Hurting like hell; the one ice-headed one, the wendigo? It got me harder than I realized.” She showed him the frost-burned hand under her glove, too. He winced in sympathy and kept his pace steady, slower than they had been going but still keeping up with Thor and Steve ahead.  
“I’m sorry, I should have gotten him taken out sooner.”

  
“Not much you could have done, Clint; it’s not every day we fight big, headless monsters that stand nine feet tall. That aren't being controlled by A) Loki, B) Doom, or C) Thanos. Besides, we’re almost there, and hopefully we can all sleep soon.”

  
“I’m sure we’ll be able to; Balthier said we’d probably exhausted, so his friend’s to meet us, get us some lodging, and let us crash. Hopefully, one of those two will be up to keeping watch...” Clint nearly stumbled at a rough, steep part of the path, and caught himself against the wall, wincing as it scraped away at what exposed skin he had around his shooting glove.

  
“Mm, judging by Thor’s excess of energy, it’ll be him. I certainly don’t mind...”

  
“Me either. I’m thinking Tony and Bruce can take the last watches, we take the middle two, and Steve goes after Thor.”

  
“Sounds good; we’ll get at least some sleep, and hopefully Bruce will feel up to a healing spell in the morning.”

  
“I’ll feel up to one before then, but I definitely need a nap first.” Bruce’s wry voice made them both chuckle and look back; Tony was muddling their footprints by using the simple expedient of an old piece of wood he’d found in the forgotten sanctuary, and Bruce was munching on another swiftly made sandwich. Up ahead, Clint noticed that Steve had unset several of the traps, while Thor moved them out of the way, and finally, they came to the last door. Tasha’s lockpicks and Thor’s strength took care of the rest, and as they made their way up the spiral path, all of them relaxed. Here there were no monsters, only dust and silence, and Clint put his free hand on the ancient transport, smiling as the circular guard slowly rose and the whole creation came to glowing life.

  
"Alright...let's get topside." It was the work of about twenty minutes to reach the top of the cavern; Clint wasn't surprised, though he had expected that they'd be a whole lot further down. Then again, caves were definitely not his specialty, and he didn't pretend that they were anyway. He helped Tasha get off, and Thor and Steve opened the glowing golden doors that led to the stone stairs...and from there, they all froze at the sound of a familiar, long-missed voice.

  
"Bout time you knuckleheads showed up. Get up here!" Slowly, every single set of eyes looked up...and there was Colonel Nick Fury, dark, bald head gleaming in the dying sunlight as an Ivalice-stylized version of his black trench flared in the wind...And beside him, Coulson, in a linen tunic and breeches with knee-high boots, raised two fingers and a smile in salute, with Hill in a long, graceful looking robe and breeches and boots as well. Behind them both, Balthier's informant friend, Jules, waved sardonically, and beckoned them up.

  
"Welcome, friends of my friend; your superiors wished to see you before I took you to the agreed upon hideaway, but I fear we must make hast. The Emperor of Archadia has passed on into the realm of the spirits...and his son, Vayne, is no man to be trifled with...if indeed, a man he remains." All of them stiffened at that, and Clint felt his stomach twist with a new fear. _If he finds us, he_ will _kill us. And if Loki's the one behind all of this...Barton, your_ hours _are numbered._

  
"Which is why we're here; we've got a lot to fill you all in on." Coulson's calm, rational voice eased them all, just a little, and they all followed Jules into the shadows of the slums...each one wondering if this time, the sword that seemed to swing over their heads in perpetuity would finally fall.


	5. Chapter 5

"...So, never expected to see you three here." Clint was grateful they'd let them all rest; unsurprising, Steve and Thor were bluffing a lot more than they let on, and the quiet snoring filled the small rooms they'd been led to, while he, Hill, Coulson, and Fury sat around the table. He'd laid down himself for a couple hours at Fury's order, but he didn't sleep well at the best of times, so no one was surprised when he joined their quiet game of cards, sipping a little of the potent ale Fury had brought in with them. He drew another pint as he laid down his cards (he wasn't winning anyway), and gladly sliced into one of the fresh-baked loaves of bread, adding a little thriftily scrounged bacon fat and a bit of cheese.

  
The others had looked askance at that before they crashed, but Clint had grown up in the sticks; butter was a luxury his mom hadn't been able to afford, and even if she had, he'd no doubt that his old man would have just beaten her for buying it, wasting his precious pennies for more cheap vodka and whiskey. So, he'd learned how to enjoy the kind of food that his grandparents had had, and really, it wasn't bad; not healthy, by any stretch, but tasty enough to at least enjoy. It was Fury that broke the silence as he shuffled quietly, and it was a heavy sigh that made Clint's eyebrows furrow.

  
"Yeah, we didn't think it'd be as bad as it was. But, the Maximoff twins were hellbent that something was going on, and when they broke into the Tower, well...every single one of you was comatose." Clint sat up straight at that, horrified, and it was Phil's hand that steadied him...a hand that gently slipped down and clasped his. He slowly, carefully met those mild blue eyes, and wished, fervently, that the situation was normal again. Even if that means we go back to just being agents...

  
"Clint, it's alright. You are all alive, just basically in a state of suspended REM sleep."

  
"...we're dreaming all of this?"

  
"Yes and no." That was Hill; Maria looked worried, and tired, the lines at her eyes deeper than usual, and Clint wished he could take that worry away from her. She might have been a pain in his ass, but he didn't want her to stress over them. "You were forced into it, that much Wanda could tell, and Pietro gathered up T'Challa, who discovered the disabled systems on the main living quarters, and Vision, who joined him in seeking out the culprit."

  
"...Please tell me you have him or her in custody." The three of them shared a glance, and he very nearly swore...but it was Fury who stayed him with a raised hand.

  
"We don't, but we do know where he is. The problem is..."

  
"...Loki's in here with us, isn't he?" Clint felt his heart sink right through the floor, and it took clutching Phil's hand and breathing very deeply for several long minutes at the sad truth in that dark eye.

  
"He is. And unfortunately, we don't know where he is in here. But we do have his body being watched."

  
"Wait...you said he wasn't in custody." Maria chuckled humorlessly.

  
"He's not. He's in Latveria, but unfortunately for him, Heimdall and Thor are old friends, and along with Thor's other brothers, Tyr and Baldur, they're watching over him. Heimdall from affar, the other two from infiltrating Doom's castle. According to Tyr, Loki's in a glass casket, guarded by Doom, Enchantress, and Skurge. She's also got the Wrecking Crew covering the grounds, so those four have taken over Avengers Tower and rallied all of the Alliance." Clint blinked for a moment; did he really mean the whole Alliance...? Phil's sudden, surprising grin answered his unspoken question.

  
"Oh yes, they did. Xavier, Phoenix, and Emma Frost are providing boosted communications, with Wolverine leading the current X fighting forces, Medusa the Inhumans, Carol the rest. All in all, we've got a veritable army coming out of the woodwork on the other side, so to speak...but we do have a problem here."

  
"I thought so. There's always a but."

  
"Wanda thinks that we're going to have to meet Loki on this ground; we won't be able to break the enchantments on his casket otherwise. Even Odin isn't sure that his power can break them. And Wanda won't even try; he's the god of mischief and chaos, and her powers are very much a part of that. And...well, suffice to say"

  
"I'm grateful she's the one watching over us, though."

  
"So am I."

  
"I just have one question, though; how the hell did you three get here too?" They shared a weary grin, and it was Hill who answered him."

  
"Wanda put us to sleep, then basically eavesdropped on your dreams and waited until a certain something put out enough power for her to hide her own aura in. She dropped us off right in front of our smelly little friend out there, scaring him half to death until we explained ourselves...and yes, we came to this world dressed like this." He blinked, sitting back in his chair.

  
"Well, that does explain it...but...a certain something?" Phil cleared his throat, and Clint glanced at him, relaxing as the older man smiled at him faintly.

  
"One of the game bosses, more or less. I've no idea what the name is, you would know, but basically, we waited for that to basically throw up a huge magical signature, and she took care of the rest. Now. You're still exhausted. Go lay down."

  
"But..."

  
"Please, Clint." He sighed, finished his ale, and gave Phil's hand a squeeze; they'd talk more about a relationship once they got out of this whole thing. And besides, knowing that his elaborate plan to get them all out wasn't needed was enough of a relief to make him finally sleepy, and before his head even sank into the downy soft pillow, he was fast asleep.

* * *

  
“Well, my friends, I do believe you’ve traveled to Archadia for nothing.” Jules looked distinctly sour in the cool morning light, their whole sector still in the looming shadow of a huge Archadian skyscraper. Steve looked damned near murderous at that, and it was Coulson and Hill who took it in turns to calm him down, while Clint laid out the borrowed map of the city and traced Jules’ rough guesstimate about where the other party was headed to. “I am sorry...”

  
“It’s not your fault; I’m going to bet it was Ashe who called the shots on this one, my friend. Alright, so with the chops they left for us, we’re able to get anywhere in the city that’s not under military control, right?”   
“Yes. Even with the watchers; it’s hard for a seasoned grifter like myself to find a mark in this city, let alone rookies from the legionnaire. I can promise that they will not know how to keep track of all of you, especially if you do not show your weapons in the upper levels.”

  
“...alright, so we leave our main weapons here under your guard.”

  
“Or, we disguise ourselves.” Natasha came over, quiet as ever, even with the oddly heeled shoes she wore, and her knowing eyes narrowed in a cat-like satisfaction. “Remember the gambit we played in Bucharest, Clint?” He blinked, then grinned, wide and all teeth.

  
“So the circus it is, then. Jules, I know entertainers are a big thing here.” The other man cackled, just a little, and his dark eyes gleamed.

  
“That they are, and I see the shape of the thing now. Give me but two candlemarks, and I’ll have everything that you’ll need to fake being a troupe.”

  
“My thanks; we’ll figure out the plan of action.” He slipped out into the half-light, and Steve finally managed to contain himself, still fuming, but no longer destroying what little got into his hands. Thor drew himself forward too, followed closely by Bruce and Tony, and Clint beckoned for their superior officers to come over as well.  
“Alright, so here’s the plan...

* * *

Breathe.

  
Nock.

  
Release.

  
The crowd surrounding them went absolutely apeshit, cheering their approval as he strode forward and gathered up the three arrows he’d shot in rapid succession, all of them in the dead centers of his three targets. It was pretty damned impressive even for his skill, and he wasn’t the world’s greatest marksman for nothing. Clint smirked to himself as he sheathed all three arrows and unstrung his bow; he was done with his act, and it’d be Natasha and Steve now with gymnastics. From there, Thor would show his strength, bending bars and everything else he could get his hands on, and Tony and Bruce would finish with displays of magic: black, white, and green.

  
He found a place to lean against the railing that protected the wealthy citizens of Archadia from falling to their deaths, and took a chance to get a long look around, his patented ‘idiot farmboy’ expression boring the few bystanders that had watched him come off his act. What he saw bothered him, the same way places like upper New York and London and Hong Kong did. This was a sky-city of the immensely wealthy...and it was no place for people like himself. Natasha could fit in here, like an exquisite knife in its sheathe, Tony too...Even Thor wasn’t fazed too much by the opulence surrounding them, but then again, Asgard was its own special sort of expensive.

  
But Steve was clearly at odds with the surroundings; small wonder, the Irish boy from Brooklyn had grown up with newspapers padding his holey shoes and a job that paid in cents per hour, not dollars. Bruce’s social status was better, but with his father’s neglect and abuse...and well, hell, Clint was a damn carnie. Not much poorer than that.

  
But there was a certain satisfaction in seeing the little things that meant all was not well. The largest, oldest buildings were in poor shape, as were the public streets and sky-ways. People were suspicious, even of the performers that wandered between the crowds, and only the extremely wealthy had clothing that glittered and shone; everyone else was just a tiny bit shabby and repaired. The shops were low on custom, the bars were too full for a populous seemingly this prosperous, and what few children were about were either little tyrants or ones that were a little too familiar. He knew that shadow in their eyes all too well...and wordlessly, he beckoned over the littlest one still watching him, looking scared from behind a jumble of supplies and boxes.

  
“Hey, kiddo...don’t worry, it’s okay, I don’t bite...” He smiled softly and coaxed the little girl over, crouching down. He carefully pulled out one of the packets of dried fruit Bruce had put together that morning, and handed it over to her. “Here ya go, sweetheart. Didja like the show?” She nodded, a plum already in her mouth, big blue eyes watching as he settled back on his haunches, and he smiled, gently patting her on the head. “Good. Better go hide those before one of the bullies gets a good look. Be safe, kiddo.” She gasped, and scampered away, her dark blue dress and brown pigtails fluttering in the heavy winds whipping through the buildings, only slightly softened by magic.

  
He sighed, standing back up, and smiled faintly. Bruce was just now finishing his part of the act, and he gathered up the little bit of equipment they’d brought with them. He adjusted his mask, a little surprised at how little it bothered him after all this time, and smirked, just a little, at the amount of purple in his outfit. It’d been Phil’s idea, because when they’d had a chance to talk over their plans, he’d mentioned that it was very possible that someone else might either join them...or be thrust here involuntarily. And having _that_ outfit described to them would, hopefully, lead the poor soul right to the Avengers.

  
Or, it might just bring out their unknown villain. Clint personally felt that it was all Loki, even though according to Maria, Wanda hadn’t sensed any of the normal energy signatures from the sorcerer when she’d examined their sleeping bodies, just finding his scepter among the fallen objects in the room, which was how they'd figured out he was in Latveria, for Heimdall had sought that peculiar energy signature all over the nine realms, just to be sure it wasn't a decoy. But even then, it was past time for whoever was responsible to come out of hiding. He ran his fingers over the curved black wood of his bow, and felt that equally familiar patience settle over him. He was tired of being a target; it was past time for all of them to turn the tables.


	6. Chapter 6

Thor’s roar was the only warning they had; Clint whipped off his bow and drew three arrows in the flash of light that followed, eyes narrowed against the flames that even now were surrounding them as he picked off three soldiers in rapid succession. Their armor was pretty damned fine, but it did them no good with an archer at point-blank range who could target eye-slits....and that was the thing that made his heart drop. Their arms and armor were exquisite, not just fine, and that did not bode well for the renegades...and more of them were pouring over the bridge into the slums.

  
He snarled and let another three, four arrows fly, while Steve’s shield ricocheted off of both men and stone. Thor was laying out soldiers left and right, while Bruce scrambled to cast his protective magicks, and Tony set all of the assholes on fire that he could.

  
Natasha had taken the high ground; glancing around, he spotted her up on the top of a decrepit building, and smirked. Suddenly, the two bastards that had reared up as he ran out of arrows fell, bullet holes punched through the golden metal of their helms, and he was immensely grateful they’d purchased that rifle when they’d all first arrived.

  
But the tide wasn’t yet turned; Clint dove forward, his bow slung over his back as he brought his heavy knife into play and rescued what arrows he could. Unfortunately, half of his arrows were broken or shattered, though these idiots clearly didn’t seem to understand that he was just as deadly with the blade in his hand as he was with the bolts on his bow. He took down a handful more, dancing bloody in the heat of the battle, his vision narrowed to grab, _slash_ , **stab** , drop...And finally, they were done.

  
The last soldier fell before Thor, crumpled and broken, and Natasha came down off of her tower, rifle still at her shoulder as she studied each of their kills. Clint sighed, rescued the last bolt, and used a piece of his now tattered shirt to clean his blade; his leather vest had protected him pretty well, but his arms were bloody from the gashes their swords had given him. He was in better shape than Steve, though, because the soldier was sitting on a forgotten crate, breathing heavy from the heavy horse bolt that had punched through both his armor and shoulder blade.

  
Thor snapped off the bolt, Tony pulled it out, and Natasha gagged him with her hand as he screamed, Bruce’s teeth clenched as he hissed out the healing spell, eyes tinted green...and Clint kept watch while he looted the bodies. He hated to see Steve in pain, but they didn’t have much of a choice; someone had to get what weapons and rations they could, and he was grateful that Thor joined him, silent but smartly gathering armor for himself, Steve, Clint, Tony, and Bruce.

  
Natasha had been more and more taking the sniper’s position, preferring to stay out of battle, for her sort of armor was hard to find, and expensive in a way that they just couldn’t afford right now. Well, hadn’t been able to; with some of the loot from these poor bastards, Clint’s inner penny-pinching gremlin was smirking. He buckled on a sword from one of the particularly vicious fuckers, and turned back to the others.

  
Steve was leaned up against the wall, eyes closed and pale, but he was conscious, his voice low as he and Tony talked. Bruce was recovering his strength, sprawled on another crate, chowing down on his own rations, and Natasha gave him a look he knew all too well.

  
“Steve, can you move?”

  
“...Yeah, but we’re gonna have to slow down before too long.”

  
“That’s fine, we just need to get into Sochen.”

  
“But...”

  
“Trust me. Tasha, you remember the way back, right?” She sniffed a little, rolling her eyes, and he grinned. “Humor me, alright? Go grab Fury, Hill, and Coulson; hopefully they saw the shitstorm and are on their way, but they might need back up. Thor, go with her.”

  
“Aye, Hawk’s Eye, but what have you planned?”

  
“Just bring them into the caves we came out of, and we’ll rendezvous down in front of the first set of iron doors. It’s not the best place, but Archadia’s soldiers won’t go through it, and the only port for airships to land at or anchor to is Balfonheim. And I can guarantee that they expected these guys to finish us off. Go; we’ll take care of the rest.” They both nodded, and Tasha rested a clawed hand on his arm, searching his eyes. He smiled gently and patted her long fingers. “It’s gonna be okay.”

  
“...You know, I might just trust you on that.” Once they were both gone, he turned back to the other three.  
“Steve, Bruce, you two head to the cave entrance now, and rest when you get there. Tony, help me move the bodies.”  
“No fire?”

  
“Unless you wanna give them our exact location, no. C’mon, there’s a deep crevice over at the end of this alley we can throw them down.” Tony looked pale under his beard and tan, and Clint almost felt sorry for him, but this was the nature of the beast; kill or be killed, and Clint had no intention of dying just yet. The squadron of men took the better part of an hour to move, and adrenaline gave them a last burst of speed once they dumped the fifteenth guy and jogged back to the entrance...and Clint gave a sigh of relief.

  
Phil was bandaging Hill’s leg while Fury cleaned a big cut over his remaining eye, and he waited long enough for them to finish before herding everyone into the elevator like a frantic sheepdog. Only then did he notice that his arms were really starting to hurt, and tearing off the rags that were his sleeves, he winced at the torrent of swearing that filled the quiet descent, all of it directed at him.

  
“Sorry, sorry guys...”

  
“Jackass.”

  
“Dumbass.”

  
“You idiot...” But Phil’s gentle hands pulled him out when they landed, and he let all of them push him onto a rock, bandaging all of the deep cuts and tears, and cleaning up the blood. For the most part, everyone else was unscathed, and Clint was grateful for it; the pain in his arms increased, and he started to feel a bit light-headed...only for Bruce to lay a gentle hand on his shoulder, glowing with healing light. The doctor chuckled a little.

  
“Well, can’t say you didn’t at least try to avoid injury this time, Barton. Well gang, we made it. Not easily, but we got what we went for, right?” Fury smiled now, settling himself on another boulder.

  
“Yeah, we did. Your act let us into Draklor pretty damned easily, and we got out well enough too; the only trouble we had was when we got caught by some of the same bully-boys. But we got it.” Clint grinned a little as Fury held up the nethicite, the eerie glow seeming to grow in the dark cavern. “And we got a message from Balthier. He wants us to meet in a place called Rabanastree?”

  
“Ra-ba-na-ster. I know, kinda fucked up spelling, but I get it. The Aerodrome?”  
“Mmhmm, says he has a buddy with an airplane-”

  
“Ship.”

  
“...hmm?”

  
“They’re airships. Trust me when I say this, people here are insular enough that if you say the wrong thing, it’ll go very, very badly for all of us.” Fury’s lone eye, bloodshot and tired, glared at him for a long moment, and Clint met his gaze, never breaking contact...until that eye slipped closed, and he sighed.

  
“...Fair enough. Airship. Anyway, we meet them all there at the local general store, we take up rooms at the bar, and we work out a plan for that Lighthouse you told us about. Shouldn’t be too difficult a task...”

  
“...It’s the hardest dungeon of the game, Fury. Trust me. It won’t be easy for any of us, and we are going to need to be stocked, ready, and on our toes. The magicks on the Pharos are full of the exact sort of illusions and fuckery that Loki loves so much, so if there’s going to be any time we’ll see him, it’s there.”

  
“...Alright. Well, are we staying the night here?”

  
“We might as well; the army won’t come down here, they’ll march from Balfonheim, which gives us a day’s headstart...and if we hit up the Hunter’s Camp at the Phon Coast, we can grab chocobos to get us through the Salikawood and Mosphoran Highwaste. From there, we need to bypass the Nalbina Fortress, and after crossing the Dalmasca Estersand, we’ll make it to Rabanastre. If it’s alright with you guys, I wanna use chocobos the whole way; if we switch off at the Highwaste and the Fortress, we’ll make it in just over three days.”

  
“...damn, Clint.” He blushed a little at Tony’s faint awe, and Steve chuckled, clapping him carefully on the shoulder as he got up.

  
“Impressive; now, let’s get some sleep, everyone.” There was no point in putting up the tent; everyone was too tired for one, and for another, they were safe enough underground. Instead, they migrated to the little dead-end whole at the bottom of the cavern and spread out their sleeping rolls; Phil called the first watch, Natasha the second, Thor the third, and Tony the last.

Clint was a little relieved by that, and he supposed it was an unspoken accord that the injured would have the full night to rest and recover...and he was gonna need it. He was already drifting off with the bitter medicine that Bruce had handed him, and by the time he’d stripped off his vest and ruined shirt, he was nodding off. The sound of Phil’s quiet hum as he built up a small fire was all he needed, and darkness swept him into oblivion.


End file.
